


Almost

by JantoJones



Series: Further Brief Briefings [2]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:46:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	Almost

He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t afraid, and he wasn’t angry. The only emotion his death was giving him was the regret that he was alone. He smiled to himself at that thought. There had once been a time when being alone was very much his preference.

Growing up, Illya Kuryakin had learned, through painful experience, that trust and friendship could be a dangerous thing. As a result, he had become accustomed to keeping his own company. Even after moving to Europe, Illya found it difficult to get close to anyone. He trusted people to do their jobs but, when it came to anything personal, he still found it impossible to open up to anyone.

It wasn’t until he was partnered with Napoleon Solo that he’d learned what it felt like to bare your soul to another person without the fear that it would be used against you. Of course, it had taken a few years to get to that point, but it was still something his younger self would never have believed could happen. What made it an even bigger astonishment was that Napoleon was an American; his supposed enemy.

Napoleon had saved his life on many occasions, but this time he would not be coming. Illya’s life would end in solitude.

Solo had reached the age of forty several months previously and was therefore forced to retire from the field. He was now shadowing Waverly in preparation for taking over as chief. Illya was just over a month away from that golden number. He’d almost made it. 

Almost.

Now he was lying at the bottom of a ravine, having been thrown down by a Thrush who was much younger and much fitter than he was. Illya wasn’t exactly unfit, but there are some things about aging which just couldn’t be denied. No matter how well a person looked after themselves, a man of almost forty was nearly always slower than a man in his early twenties. That was the main reason agents were retired from the field at a relatively early age. When he’d reached for his communicator to call for help he’d found it gone. It had seemingly slipped from his pocket during his tumble.

Night was falling again. Illya had already spent one night under the stars and felt certain he wouldn’t see the end of this one. He could feel death creeping into his core, and the pain from his injuries was dulling. 

It was time to go.

Illya closed his eyes and began to let himself drift away, but he was suddenly dragged back by the sound of voices calling his name. He vaguely recognised them but couldn’t bring their names to mind. It wasn’t until he opened his eyes again that he realised the voices belonged to two of the new agents. They were Adam Hislop and his partner, Helene Cloutier. 

“Mr Kuryakin,” Helene said, with relief. “Thank God we found you!”

Behind her, Adam could be heard calling for a helicopter.

“Mr Solo was worried sick when you missed several scheduled call-ins,” Helene continued. “We managed to trace the general area of communicator and Mr Solo sent us out here with orders not to come back without you.”

Illya smiled. Napoleon had saved his life after all.


End file.
